by Peter Damon
“Time-frame?” Lisa pressed Jon.
“Oh, that will depend,” he said, the standard answer getting him a frown of annoyance. “A day,” he hurriedly amended for Lisa.
“Well, whatever it is, it lets the college off the hook. No one can accuse them of having somehow got inside the ISS and planted something for later explosion.” She nodded. “Thanks Kevin.”
“Jobs not over yet,” he told her. “If it wasn’t Cambridge, then who was it?” he asked.
Lisa nodded. “Let’s see what we can find,” she agreed.
“Those photos?” Jon asked of Kevin.
+++++++++++++
Mickey brought Jake into the small meeting room close to the loading bay and stood by the door, arms resolutely folded, while Heather looked towards the post-graduate student, anger and sadness flickering across her features.
“Anything in your pockets?” she asked him sharply.
Jake shook his head and moved his hands out from his sides to invite corroboration. Heather refused and looked at him instead, her face working as she strived to control her emotions.
“We trusted you!” she blurted.
“Do you know how many have been killed down there?” he asked.
“You put beliefs above friendship, above comradeship. You’ve endangered every one of us!” she spat in response.
Jake was silent and stared at the floor.
“You are expelled from the Rolle College, and dismissed immediately from the crew of the ARC for Gross Misconduct. Under the terms of the employment contract we will drop you wherever you wish,” she told him.
Jake opened his mouth to tell her where, but Heather shook her head. “I don’t want to know. Tell Mickey once you’re in the car. Far as I’m concerned, you never existed!” she told him, and waited for him to go before she searched out Matt to hold him while he wept.
+++++++++++++
Oliver remained in the meeting to continue talking to the authorities on earth while Heather hurried out to release Michael from his ‘cell’. They were still discussing the implications behind the forensics when Heather returned with a pale-faced Michael, who went off to one side to quickly prepare himself a decent cup of tea.
“What have I missed?” he asked, taking a seat and nodding towards Sir Richard on one screen, and the gentlemen he took to be the authorities leading the criminal investigation into the destruction of the ISS on the other.
“Only that Interpol refuse to move on NASA or COSMOSMO,” Oliver told him.
“It is not that we refuse, but that there is no evidence to suggest a criminal act has been perpetrated,” the bearded man at the head of the table argued.
“We want permission to recover the rest of the space station and conduct tests on the air scrubber,” Michael told him.
“We understand the US has refused. There is insufficient evidence to overturn their request.”
“According to Interpol.” Michael argued.
“According to the lawyers we pay a ransom to in order to guide and protect us in these things,” he answered.
“So the USA and Russia get away with it yet again,” Michael sighed.
“Mm, not necessarily,” Heather murmured. “Give me ten minutes,” she begged, and patted his arm before she rose from the table.
“What about Mr Patrick Miller and his lies?” she heard Michael ask in a venomous voice as she left the room.
+++++++++++++
Heather sat at her desk and dialled the number she’d only used once before, but she hoped with some effect.
This time, she didn’t have to wait in order for the monitor to clear and show the face of the US President. She looked younger without her glasses, Heather thought.
“Miss Heather Wilson,” the President nodded. “What can we do for you?” she asked pleasantly.
Heather swallowed. “The US government has refused us access to the remains of the ISS,” she told the President.
“Have we,” she stated, and looked past Heather, probably to others who were in the Oval Office, but outside of Heather’s view.
“I need you to revoke that.”
“We understand you have a forensic team from Oxford University on the ARC.”
“We do. And we’ve taken statements from both surviving members of the crew that suggests two separate faults or occurrences caused the complete failure of the space station,” Heather explained.
The president looked past her once more, her face still but for her eyes. They moved, scrutinising whoever, or whatever she was looking at.
“We have one caveat though,” the President told her, those eyes settling on Heather through the video connection. “You will allow our representative to be present.”
Heather sighed and nodded. “Who is it, and where do we pick him or her up from?” she asked, pulling her tablet towards her.
“My Technical Advisor, Glen Schroder. He is to be alerted to anything affecting America, her equipment or her people. He can then determine the proper level of authority. As for a location to pick him up, I believe your people already know my front lawn?” she said, smiling coldly.
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I’ve got permission!” Heather cried, returning to the meeting to find the video dark and Michael and Oliver sitting morosely at the table. “I’ve got the President’s approval!” she told them trying to lighten the mood.
Oliver shook his head. “Too late. It started burning up just a few minute ago,” he explained.
+++++++++++++
Jon showed Jerry Mathers the three-dimensional model of the destroyed module and in particular the hole caused by the explosion.
“What am I looking for?” Jerry asked.
“The experiments were on the inside, is that right?” Jon asked.
Jerry nodded and raised a finger to turn the model slightly so he could get his bearings. “Yes, on the inside would have been STP-H7-MHTEX.”
“Can you tell me what that was?” Jon asked.
“Sure,” Jerry shrugged. “It’s a long term experiment; Space Test Program, Houston, seventh in the sequence, conducting tests called Massive Heat Transfer Experiment,” he explained. “Would you like further details?” he smiled.
“So it was a new box, the seventh?” Jon queried.
“Yes. They’re not new on every trip, but this one was, yes,” he agreed.
“And what’s in it, usually?” Jon asked.
“Usually?” Jerry laughed at Jon’s curious choice of words. “Water,” he answered. “It tests water that has undergone massive temperature variations while in a closed circuit,” he explained.
“So it’s linked to outside?” Jon asked.
“Sure, to a small radiator. You can’t see it because it would have been where the hole is,” he explained, and sat staring at the image on the screen as his mind began to work.
“Just a couple more questions Jerry. Am I right in saying that this is a test put together and resourced by Houston” he asked.
“Er, yes. I mean, it’s a Houston sponsored experiment, but I don’t actually know who manufactured the box.”
“OK, last question, and I’m making a leap of faith on this one, but would the electrics for the modules further north be fed through electricity cables passing under the walls at this point?” he asked.
Jerry tried to laugh and couldn’t. “The electrics failed before the explosion,” he pointed out.
Jon brought up some additional photographs his colleague had taken before access to the module had been rescinded. “See this on the inner surface of the metal?” he asked the astronaut, pointing to what looked like an etching of the metal.
“This is a sign of acid erosion,” Jon explained when Jerry had nodded. “I’ll wager my reputation on an acid being released at this point. The electricity cables would have gone first, then, pretty quickly afterwards, the strength in the outer wall. Especially if the outer wall is weakened already by a hole to allow a water pipe through it. The remaining acid, post a break i
n the wall, could have gone anywhere, but if the explosion caused a rotational spin, then it could have caused the acid to run some distance along a line that we see as the complete mechanical-torsion break of the module,” he concluded.
“My God. Someone tried to kill us!” Jerry breathed.
Jon nodded. “And they would have too, had not two gypsies cast aside all thought of their own safety to wade in and rescue you,” he agreed.
+++++++++++++
Michael introduced Glen to Oliver, Matt, Frankie, and finally to Heather.
“The lady who got our President all fired up,” Glen chuckled, smiling warmly at Heather as he took her hand to shake it.
“You did?” Michael asked.
“Another day,” she told him. “We weren’t able to recover the rest of the ISS before it hit earth’s atmosphere,” she explained. “However, our forensic team, working with NASA astronaut Jerry Mathers have come up with the sequence of events,” she told him. “Would you like to hear it?” she asked the American, leading him towards the meeting room where Jon and Jerry had a short presentation ready.
Glen sipped occasionally from his coffee as the American and British man took turns to present their information and conclusions. If it caused a reaction within the American President’s Technical Advisor, then it didn’t show in his expression.
“You don’t seem shocked,” Michael told Glen, continuing to watch him while Jon and Jerry sat down to answer any questions.
Glen looked back at Michael. “That people would go to any lengths in an attempt to get hold of your technology?” he asked.
Michael sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.
“Do you know who manufactured that unit?” Glen asked those around the room. “Then I guess that’s the first port of call. Jerry, why don’t you get onto ISO in Houston and get the details,” he asked.
“Inventory Stowage Officer,” Glen answered Michael’s questioning look. “There’s one for each mission. That desk will have absolutely everything there is to know about everything on the ISS,” he explained.
“While we’re waiting, I hear Hilary has requested a Leave of Absence to follow up on some further training,” he said.
“She’s joined our farmers,” Heather nodded. “She’s working in our Hydroponics Department,” she elaborated with a grin.
“That wouldn’t be a precursor to getting onto any Mars mission, would it?” Glen asked with an answering grin.
They laughed, the laughter dying as Jerry returned. He didn’t look happy. “It was made in the US,” he told Glen.
“OK, give me the details. I’ll have the FBI run an investigation on the company. They can decide if a raid of any nature is needed,” he told the room, fishing for his tablet. “Will it work?” he asked.
Michael grinned as the tablet answered the question for itself, posting a flag to indicate he had a new email.
+++++++++++++
Michael reached the laboratory a few minutes late and apologised to the Howards and the three professors. Professor Don Graves looked particularly glum at the delay, but said no more and turned back to Pavel, seated at the console, to ask him to proceed.
“How long does it take?” Michael asked of the twins.
“A few minutes, we think,” they answered, shrugging. “We’ve never used one before,” they explained.
Michael nodded while a hush fell upon them, eyes all focused on the rising pressure meter as the machine began to compress the liquid, contained within a ring of copper.
The number on the console continued to increment, rising slowly but constantly towards the three hundred mark.
An alarm went off, and a moment later the large cabinet rose off the floor.
“Off, off!” Don was calling, but Pavel had already slammed his palm down onto the large emergency cut-off button. The machine slowly settled to the floor once more, everyone in the room sighing with relief.
“What happened?” Michael asked while, around him, the professors grinned and shook each other’s hands.
“We’ll know more when we’ve analysed the results,” Pavel told him. “But from observation, I would suggest that HYPORT generated an electromagnetic field at 250 atmospheres of pressure and, in doing so, began to create its own gravitational field.”
“Is that good or bad?” he asked.
“No such thing,” Don shook his head. “Unless, of course, you are one of those intellectuals who stand by flawed conclusions, even when the evidence proves them to be flawed,” he said, and Michael wondered who he would be referring to.
“HYPORT is undoubtedly generating gravitational forces without the mass that is generally associated with it. In doing that, it breaks Newton’s Universal Law of Gravitation. Which is absolutely marvellous! Every test we conduct provides us with more and more data regarding gravity, what it is and how it functions. That is phenomenal, absolutely phenomenal. It will provide us with so much more data. I am overwhelmed,” the American professor told him before turning away to wipe at his eyes.
Michael moved away and congratulated the twins. “A good test,” he told them.
They nodded with their usual synchronicity. “There’ll be a mass of data to assess. They’ll want to identify the specific elements causing the gravitational force. The professors will probably compare the results with other elements first, to identify discrepancies, variances and then target comparisons of those variances against chemicals that share the same variances.”
“And what’s left,” Michael concluded. The twins nodded. Remaining variances were new. That’s where their research would finally focus, probably weeks, months later.
“I imagine Professor Brewer will probably be most interested in the electrical properties of the chemical, and try to identify any triggers that caused the increased electromagnetism,” Thomas nodded.
“But Professor Chaichenko is the Particle Physicist of the group. He’ll want to get right down to the core of it and find the remaining variations, the anomalies against existing elements,” David thought.
“So what does Professor Graves bring to the table?” Michael asked.
“Genius,” the twins chorused.
“We’re very pleased,” Professor Graves told them, coming over to where Michael and the twins were in conversation. “We’ll have some of your students, those that show the right approach, help with the analysis, and we’ll forge ahead with preparing a deep freeze,” and he chuckled.
“Deep freeze?” Michael asked the twins as the professor moved away again.
“The next test; bring HYCOMP down to as near Absolute Zero as possible,” the twins nodded.
“And that will produce a whole lot of new data,” Michael nodded his understanding.
“Probably,” the twins agreed, a look passing between them.
+++++++++++++
Cheryl dropped the Range Rover towards the new building she could see being constructed to one side of the old Cape Canaveral landing strip, just a kilometre east of the main space centre.
She slowed her descent so she could better appreciate what the Americans were building, deep in the area reserved for NASA and the US military.
It looked like a huge and windowless cube, 35 metres to each side, perhaps a bit shorter than that tall. It looked like four stories, she concluded, although the lack of windows and the overly large garage doors at its base made it hard to judge.
She parked the Range Rover close by as a couple of people began walking towards her.
“Larry Walker and John Cross,” Larry introduced themselves and their backgrounds, he a sandy haired, long faced engineer working on the build of the Mars Laboratory, his assistant John a darker haired astrophysicist with a major in planetary physics and, in particular, that of Mars.
“So, how’s it going?” she asked them, shaking their hands before looking again towards the building.
“You can see the general structure from here,” Larry explained, and pointed. “Garages on the ground floor together with plant
room and large storage, such as water, air, etc. First floor is the study studios, communication, laboratories and open office areas, and the next two floors are the living quarters, lounge and kitchens. Each floor will be on a converse clock, like you have on the ARC,” he explained.
“You know what we have on the ARC?” she asked.
“We listen,” he grinned.
“The columns in the base are hydraulic, to enable us to level the building on any terrain with up to a five degree camber,” Larry explained. “We assume you guys can find us an appropriate landing spot if we give you the rough area we’re interested in,” John queried.
“Yes. If the place exists, we can put you on it,” Cheryl agreed. “Are you aiming for somewhere around the equator?” she asked. She’d done some research.
John nodded. “Though I’m not sure if that argument has totally been put to bed,” he admitted. Mars was full of variations. There were variations between the northern and the southern hemisphere, while its elliptical orbit produced a greater range of temperatures between the summer and winter months, but the temperatures between the poles and the equator could vary greatly, just as daytime and night time temperatures were similarly different.
“Do we have to design a suit, or will we be able to use yours?” John asked.
Cheryl laughed. “You have been listening, haven’t you?”
Larry shrugged. “Why invent the wheel when a perfectly good one already exists?” he asked.
“The main reason would be if the original were patented,” she answered. “But I’ll talk to my people,” Cheryl said, and made a note on her tablet.
“We’ll have half a dozen vehicles, probably very similar to your SUVs, with a 500 kilometre operating radius, so we’ll be able to look at a lot of area,” John told her.
“The hydroponics will operate out of a dome that will be erected once we land,” Larry explained.
“It will all be experimental, of course. We’ll eat dry and frozen foods brought with us from earth.” John clarified. “But we want to find out what type of plants would adapt best and survive on Mars.”
“You’ve been trialling plants for the last ten years that I know of,” Cheryl grinned.
“Nothing like reality to show you where you were going wrong,” John shrugged.